


The Trouble with Apocalypses, According to Sam Winchester, Demon Junkie Extraordinaire.

by Meh_forget_it



Series: Gospel's 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:18:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meh_forget_it/pseuds/Meh_forget_it
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam slowly starts to realise that he really is alone in this. And seeing the distrust in Dean’s eyes, makes him wonder what he should do to end it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trouble with Apocalypses, According to Sam Winchester, Demon Junkie Extraordinaire.

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings** : Violence, blasphemy, strong language, Sammy angst (ooh, lots of angst), sort of suicide attempt (because it’s not, not really.. you’ll see)

Vices

Sam glanced around the room he found himself in, fear building in his stomach as he realised he was dreaming and appeared to be in a version of Bobby’s panic room. With no visible way out. And alone. Except for one man, sitting on the bed and smiling kindly at him. Sam swallowed the whimper that wanted to escape along with his rising panic when he saw Lucifer.

The Devil had been leaving his dreams alone since the whole Famine incident. As well as everyone else, actually. But Lucifer not spending all his sleeping hours tempting him was certainly something he was quite happy about. Apparently however, Lucifer was back.

“Sam, how are you feeling? Joints still all achey? Still feel like you’ve just been turned inside out and stretched out to your limits?” Lucifer asked, standing up from the bed, but stopping after one step when Sam pressed himself against the wall.

“Go away.” Sam whispered, not daring to take his eyes away from the Fallen angel invading his dreams. He knew that no one was in the motel room to wake him up. Dean and Castiel had left him an hour before Sam finally gave up and went to sleep.

“Your brother can’t look at you anymore, can he? Can’t face looking at what you’ve become. What you’re _destined_ to become.” Lucifer said, soft, kind tone belying his actual words. Sam just glared at him and tried not to show how much his words were affecting him. Though he wasn’t too sure he had succeeded.

“Shut up.” Sam hissed, trying to press himself even closer to the wall, glaring when Lucifer took another step towards him.

“You know I can make all this pain and betrayal you’re feeling, just go away. You just have to say one word, Sam. Just one little word.” Lucifer whispered with a kind smile, which made a sore on Nick’s face crack, and start to weep.

“No. Go back to Hell. I’ll never say it.” Sam told him, shaking his head and hugging his arms to his stomach. Jaw clenching and unable to hide the wince of pain that shot through him.

“Oh, Samuel. You know I’m not going to leave you alone. I can feel your will to deny me snapping. And your brother can feel it too, why do you think he’s so quick to distrust you?” Lucifer pointed out, and Sam flinched at the observation, but still clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.

Lucifer sighed and took yet another step towards Sam, making Sam feel his heartbeat pick up in panic, and his breathing to become faster and more forced.

“Sam, why do you have to make everything so hard?” Lucifer asked, and then he placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and all Sam knew was pain.

* * *

It had been nearly twelve days since he’d been let out of the panic room at Bobby’s, and five days since Lucifer’s visit. Three days since Sam had last dared to let himself sleep. And he felt that it was a sign of how far his and Dean’s relationship had fallen apart, that Dean didn’t seem to notice Sam was coming apart at the seams.

Sam was exhausted, he was constantly aching and in pain, his stomach was still cramping in want for something he couldn’t have. Sam couldn’t actually recall the last time he’d eaten and actually kept it down. He was nearing the end of his tether and wasn’t sure what would happen when he finally snapped.

He’d noticed that Dean no longer looked at him for longer than a few seconds at a time. Sam couldn’t cough without Dean wanting to know the reason for it. And Sam knew he’d never be allowed to actually leave the motel room alone. Though, Sam wasn’t entirely sure what the point of that was, given Dean barely spent any time in there anyway. If he knew it was possible, Sam would wonder if Castiel had placed some sort of alarm on their door, alerting them should Sam leave the room. Cabin fever was something Sam was becoming very familiar with.

Castiel was another matter entirely however. The angel had taken to staying by Dean almost all the time. He watched over Dean as he slept, and would shoot Sam concerned looks as Sam resolutely hunched over at the table, researching randomly. Of course, with nearing on eighty hours and no sleep, Sam’s researching skills had diminished somewhat. Still, Castiel hadn’t mentioned anything about Sam’s sleeping habits, or lack thereof, to Dean. Or he had and Dean just hadn’t cared. Sam really hoped it was the former.

He wasn’t too sure how long he could carry on before he _had_ to sleep. And to be honest, he was terrified of that moment. And he didn’t know where to go for help. He wasn’t sure anyone _could_ help him.

“Sam, come on, we’re heading out. Bobby called about a possible hunt in Iowa. Get your stuff, I wanna make a start on getting there now.” Dean ordered in his gruff voice, though still not actually looking at Sam as he said it, leaning on the door of their room. Sam jerked up to look at him and wondered how long Dean had actually been there. And why he hadn’t noticed. Maybe he had fallen asleep without being visited. Doubtful. He certainly didn’t feel rested.

“What are we hunting?” Sam asked, fumbling clumsily to put his laptop in his bag, and then standing up from the table, knees shaking weakly, making Sam quickly press his hands flat on the table to stop face planting into the ground. He glanced up at Dean, to see him frowning before his face blanked and he shrugged.

“Bobby seems to think it’s a spirit. But he’s not sure. You ready?” Dean asked, leaving the doorway to grab his own bag, before heading back out. Sam sighed wearily and picked up his bag once more and walked out the motel room.

* * *

As soon as he saw the walls of the panic room, Sam knew he’d finally lost his battle with himself and had fallen asleep. He just hoped that Dean wasn’t there to witness it. He could tell that Dean wondered if he was speaking to Sam or if Sam had finally given in and said yes. Which didn’t really make Sam feel all that great about himself.

“Humans need their sleep, Sam. Did you really think you could stay away from me? That you would be able to keep me away for long? Really, Sam. I think I’m disappointed in you. I thought you were supposed to be intelligent.” Sam glared at Lucifer, once again pressing himself against the wall.

“Shut up.”

“Do we have to start on such a hostile note? I’m on your side, Sam. I’m the only one you’ve got in your corner. Dean certainly isn’t. And I doubt his angel will leave him to back you. So really, I don’t understand your problem with me, Sam. I just want to help.”

“Help by destroying everyone I love? Destroying the whole of mankind? How is that helping?” Sam spat, sneering at Lucifer and mentally pleading with the man to stay where he was, to not come closer. Not touch him. Please.

“I want to make paradise. You can’t do that without a few sacrifices.” Lucifer explained, and Sam gaped at him, not entirely sure the angel was being serious.

“A few sacrifices? Every living thing on this planet is _a few sacrifices_ to you? No wonder you were cast down! You want to destroy everything your Father created. Why? What have we ever done to you?” Sam asked, disbelief colouring his voice. He figured getting Lucifer to talk for the entirety of this dream would be a better idea than the torture part.

“What have you done? What haven’t you done? Free Will! Why did you get it and yet we, my Father’s greatest creation, were denied it!” Lucifer hissed and Sam snorted and shook his head.

“That’s it? You’re jealous? All of this, all the hatred and the pain, it’s all because you can’t handle your Father giving us something that he didn’t give to you? What makes you think Free Will is so freaking great, anyway?” Sam asked, looking at Lucifer with a sneer on his face, truly wondering what the point in anything was anymore.

“You have freedom. Freedom to do what you like, no consequences. What about that isn’t incredible?”

“You’re pathetic. You really believe that? Free will? It sucks. We’re not really free, you know. This isn’t freedom. It's a pitiful mockery of an idea. Sure, we were given the right to do as we pleased, live how we wished, but there _are_ consequences. _You_ are a god damned consequence! Pun completely intended!” Sam exclaimed, wondering what had happened to the temptation side of things, not that he was complaining.

“You think I’m pathetic? You, who clings to a brother who no longer cares what you do, as long as your actions don’t ruin his own plans? You, who freed me? You look at me, and you think _I’m_ the pathetic one?” Lucifer asked him, glaring spitefully at him, malicious joy glinting in his eyes when Sam slumped back against the wall, no longer able to keep the pain of everything from showing on his face.

“I never said I wasn’t pathetic. But you’ve just proved my point, really. Free will gave me the choices in my life. Free will ruined everything good in my life and pretty much destroyed me. You think this is a gift? You think it’s fun? I know you’re the ultimate evil, but even you can’t see this as a gift.” Sam whispered, fight gone out of him. He looked up at Lucifer threw his fringe, as he let his legs give out under him and he slid down the wall.

“It is more of a gift than we were ever given. But if you don’t want it, give it up. You know you can. Just one word, Sam. One word and this will all be over.” Lucifer told him, walking so that he was towering over him. Sam just cringed away from him on the floor and hugged his legs to his chest, not trusting himself to actually speak out loud.

“No? Still going to fight this? It is inevitable, Sam. You know this. Soon, you will give in. How soon will decide on how little it will hurt you in the long run.” Lucifer told him, and Sam looked up at him, before frantically shaking his head.

“No. No, I won’t ever agree to it. Do your worst, I won’t give in.” Sam muttered, and even to his won ears, his voice sounded weak and unsure. Lucifer laughed, telling Sam that he too had heard the uncertainty.

“I don’t have to do my worst, Sam. You’re already doing it all for me.” Lucifer pointed out to him, amusement in his voice, before he clapped his hands once, and Sam jerked awake.

It was dark in the room, and silent. No sounds at all, which told Sam that he was alone once more. He did feel a little more aware of his surroundings however, so even if his dreams weren’t uninterrupted, at least he _had_ slept. Deciding that he wasn’t going to be able to sleep anymore, and not entirely sure where Dean and Castiel were, Sam got out of bed and walked over to the table that had his laptop on. He may as well use his time researching the hunt a bit more, try to show Dean that he was useful.

* * *

Bobby had been right, as usual. It was a spirit, and Sam realised that only getting four hours of sleep after having been awake for over ninety really wasn’t conducive to being on the ball and aware in a hunt. Especially when, what you were hunting, could throw you across the room with barely a thought.

They did finally salt and burn the evil bitch, but Sam was fairly certain he’d felt something in his wrist break, but shrugged it off. It wasn’t like he wasn’t constantly aching and in pain anyway. He knew it was partly because of Lucifer, because he was sure he hadn’t ached for this long, the last time he’d had to detox.

“Sam, it gone?” Dean called out, and Sam hissed quietly in pain as he pushed himself up off the ground, leaning heavily against the wall.

“Yeah, it’s gone. You got it.” Sam called out, straightening himself up and stepping forward, to where Dean and Cas were waiting for him.

“Are you okay, Sam?” Castiel asked him, and Sam shot him a small smile, before nodding his head.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You two alright?” Sam asked them both, frowning when Dean just shrugged, then turned his back to Sam and walked out the house. “Still hates me then, huh?”

“Your brother doesn’t hate you, Sam. He’s just… not sure how to deal with everything.” Castiel admitted with a small sigh, looking to where Dean had walked off, leaning against the Impala.

“Yeah, he’s not the only one, Cas. Come on, let’s go before I thinks I’ve pounced on you and have drained you dry.” Sam muttered, walking past Castiel to walk out the house, ignoring Castiel saying his name softly as he passed.

* * *

Sam glared at the door as it shut behind Dean, leaving Sam once more with strict orders not to leave the room and that Dean would be back in a few hours. Castiel had left to search for God an hour or so before. Actually, Sam as a little grateful that Dean had left, the stifling silence was making his mind focus more on the pain, if only to focus on _something_ other than the silence.

Still, he’d have liked to have been able to leave the room. That would have been nice. A luxury at this point in his time. He was beginning to wonder what the outside world looked like. Sam snorted mirthlessly, and Lucifer said he had freedom? This didn’t feel like freedom to him.

Sam yawned, before snapping his mouth shut in horror and quickly climbed off his bed. He couldn’t sleep, even if he did need it. He just couldn’t. He didn’t trust himself anymore. But he didn’t see any way out of it. Couldn’t see a way to stop himself dooming everyone.

Until his eyes dropped on the knife he kept under his pillow.

Sure, he knew he couldn’t kill himself. Lucifer would bring him back and the torture would begin again. Only, it’d probably be worse, everyone would know _why_ he did it, and he’d never be trusted again. But maybe just enough damage to put himself into a coma. If he wasn’t aware of anything, didn’t dream, didn’t have any actual brain activity but was still considered alive, then Lucifer wouldn’t be able to take his body. And Sam wouldn’t be able to say the one word he’d been refusing to say since he’d found out about his ‘destiny’.

Nibbling on his lip in indecision, Sam glanced at the clock and knew that Dean wouldn’t be back for hours. Which sealed his decision. Dean wasn’t there to stop him. Because Dean no longer cared. Sam had destroyed his brothers faith and trust him. If anything, he could do this for Dean. Make sure Dean would be as safe as he possibly could be, given the world was ending.

Sam scribbled a note to Dean, explaining his plan and how he hoped it would work in their favour. Then folded it and left it on the pillow on Dean’s bed. He then turned and grabbed the knife from under his own pillow. Sam looked at it in his hands, before nodding his head decisively and making his way into the bathroom.

Sam sat on the edge of the bath and took a deep breath as he placed the blade against the thin skin of his already throbbing wrist. He could do this. He _had_ to do this.

“You don’t, you know.” Sam cursed, jerked and then cried out as he slashed the knife deeply over his wrist anyway. “Oh now, that wasn’t meant to happen.”

Sam looked up, knife dropping to the floor from his numb fingers as he saw Michael sheepishly standing in the doorway.

“Michael?” Sam asked, blinking quickly as the world suddenly dipped to the side violently, and Sam felt his head getting lighter. Apparently, fatigue made potential suicide attempts easier.

“Yes. Er… sorry about that. I’ll just… Hang on. I’m not all that great at healing, if I’m honest with you. I’m more of a ‘kill them’ kind of person, you see. Right. Erm… Think you can wait there a minute.” Michael asked him, and Sam looked at him incredulously, then looked down at his bleeding wrist, moving to press his other hand over his with a hiss.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere, Michael.” Sam muttered, and looked up in time to see the angel shoot him a bright smile before vanishing from the room. “He’s insane. And I’m dying, too. Huh.”

“No, you’re not. Michael, what did you do? I sent you here just to see what they were up to, not to damn well kill one of them!” Sam looked over to see Gabriel in the doorway now, Michael hovering behind him, biting his lip. Sam smiled softly at him, then giggled (though he wouldn’t admit to it later) when the world spun around him. “How long did you stand here gawping at him bleeding out, Mikey?”

“Not long! He really doesn’t look very well, does he?” Michael asked, tentatively following Gabriel into the bathroom, and hovering behind him when Gabriel crouched down in front of Sam.

“You’re kinda short.” Sam pointed out, then shrugged and grinned when Gabriel glared at him. He absently thought he heard Michael snigger in the background, but focused to try and pay attention to Gabriel.

“I’m also the only one that’s gonna save your ass. Really want to keep with the insults?” Gabriel snapped, before placing a hand on Sam’s wrist. Sam whined and tugged his wrist away. He was fairly certain healing him wasn’t part of the plan.

“No.”

“You want to die?”

“No.”

“Then let me heal you.”

“No.”

“Fuck, it’s like talking to Michael when he’s drunk. Sam, I’ve got to heal you, but I need your consent to do so. If I don’t, you’re going to die, do you understand me?” Gabriel asked, and Sam shrugged but nodded his head all the same. “So why won’t you let me heal you.”

“S’the plan.” Sam mumbled, frowning when he felt his vision begin to black out.

“The plan? What plan?”

“Coma. Stop ‘cifer.” Sam explained, huffing when he couldn’t get the energy to explain himself.

“Eh? I’m going to admit I’m a little confused about this now, Loki. You speak his language, what does he mean?” Michael asked, and Sam let his head fall back so that he could look at the other angel through his eyelashes.

“He’s speaking English, Michael. So are you." Gabriel pointed out and Michael huffed and shook his head.

"No, he's speakin' American. That's not English, that isn't. Welsh is easier to understand than American." Michael told them, and Sam watched Gabriel bite his lip to stop laughing, just as he felt his own eyes drifting shut.

"Sam. Come on, Sam! Stay with me here. How was this going to stop our brother?” Gabriel asked, giving Sam a small shake when Sam shut his eyes, which just caused Sam to open them again and glare at Gabriel.

“In coma. Can’t say it. Can’t ‘gree.” Sam tried to explain, but it was quite hard when it felt like your tongue had been replaced by an old piece of carpet.

“Yeah, not going to work, Sammy. Let me heal you. You’re not going to go into a coma, Sam. You’re going to damn well die.” Gabriel hissed, tightening his grip slightly on Sam’s wrist, making Sam whine in pain.

“Fine.” Sam agreed softly, then lost his battle with gravity and slumped onto Gabriel. He could feel his wrist getting warmer, and the pain slowly receding.

“You’d broken your wrist too. Shit, Mikey, what’d you do to him?” Gabriel muttered, voice sounding slightly muffled given that he had Sam practically on top of him.

“Wa’n’t Mich…” Sam murmured, yawning before whimpering as he realised that if he survived this, he’d go to sleep and he wasn’t sure he would survive _that_.

“Come on, Kid. Michael, help me get him up and to the bed.” Gabriel hissed, and Sam blinked when he was suddenly being lifted up and carried to the main room.

“M’not a girl.” Sam muttered, but didn’t struggle in Michael’s arms, sighing when he was placed on the bed. It was when he felt his body relax that he finally actually started to struggle.

“Now what’s wrong with you? I don’t get humans. I really don’t.” Gabriel muttered, and Michael shrugged at his brother.

“Don’t ask me. I try to help and end up almost killin’ them.” Michael claimed. Sam struggled, and finally managed to sit up, gripping his head as he was hit with a wave of dizziness.

“Why aren’t you lying down?” Gabriel asked, moving to stand on the opposite side of the bed to Michael, and sitting down on the edge. Sam just shrugged and ran a shaky hand through his hair.

“I can’t sleep. He’ll come to my dreams and I don’t think I can carry on refusing him.” Sam admitted with a whisper, not entirely sure why he was admitting it in the first place.

“And you thought putting yourself in a coma would help?” Gabriel asked, voice incredulous, but soft, whilst Michael sat down on the bed on the other side of Sam.

“I’m not strong like Dean is. I don’t think I can say no much longer. I thought that if I wasn’t conscious to say it, then Lucifer would never get to me.” Sam mumbled, and Gabriel made a noise of shock.

“Well, that’s actually not that bad a plan.” Gabriel admitted and Sam looked up at him in shock, deflating a little at the grim look on the angel\s face. “It’d probably have worked, if there wasn’t one little thing. If he wanted to, Lucifer could heal you, bring you back. Kid, there’s no way out of this. You’ve just got to keep doing what you think is right.”

“I don’t think I can. I’m not strong. I never have been. I don’t have enough courage to carry on much more.” Sam whispered, shame and horror flowing through him when he felt tears prick at his eyes. Michael snorted and moved closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Courage isn’t just a matter of not being afraid. It’s being afraid and doing what you have to do anyways.” Michael told him, and Sam frowned, trying to place where he’d heard something like that before, then turned to look at the angel, stunned.

“Did you just quote Doctor Who to me?”

“I felt it was relevant.” Michael defended himself, pulling his hand back and glaring at Gabriel when he snickered.

“More worrying is the fact you knew it was Doctor Who. Please don’t tell me you’re a fan.” Gabriel pointed out and Sam shrugged his shoulders, looking at the duvet on his bed and picking at the covers.

“Not really, but if I get the chance and it's on, I watch it. It’s nice to… forget.” Sam said, he sighed and looked at Gabriel, then Michael. “Why are you here?”

“We’ve been doing a lot of thinking since we last saw you. Michael thought you had a point. We don’t want to kill our brother. But, we don’t want everything else we love to be ruined either. So I sent Michael over to see what you were up to, and well… next time, I’ll come.” Gabriel said, shooting an unimpressed glare to Michael, who just smiled sheepishly back.

“You… you’re going to help?” Sam asked, not sure he’d understood what Gabriel had been trying to tell him.

“We are. Though, how much would we owe you to be the one to explain to Dean?” Gabriel asked, sheepishly grinning. Sam just snorted derisively and shook his head.

“You’ll have more luck telling him yourself. Or getting Cas too. Dean isn’t exactly… I’m not Dean’s favourite person right now.” Sam told them dryly, ignoring the familiar twinge of pain with ease.

“Oh dear. Suppose that explains the desperation you’re giving off then, huh?” Gabriel asked, and Sam just shrugged one shoulder feebly. He jumped when Michael placed his hand back on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

“Lucifer’s been picking up on that, hasn’t he? And you haven’t had anyone to talk to about it, have you?” Sam shook his head silently, no longer feeling able to speak out loud without humiliating himself completely and breaking down. “And you haven’t been sleeping at all, really. I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Sam.”

“Right, you need sleep-“

“No!” Sam yelped, looking at Gabriel in horror, shaking his head frantically when Gabriel just stared back at him.

“Sam…”

“I can’t. Please don’t make me.” Sam whispered, and Michael sighed and shared a look with Gabriel.

“Sam, I can protect your dreams, yeah? I’m older and a lot stronger than Lucifer. I can keep him out of your head so you can sleep. But I need you to trust me enough to do this.” Michael told him gently, and Sam absently wondered where the childlike Michael had gone.

“I don’t…” Sam bit his bottom lip, and picked at the cover he was sitting on once more.

“Where’s Dean? Will he be back soon? He can watch over you and us, make sure that we don’t do anything, if you want?” Gabriel suggested and Sam couldn’t hold in the slightly hysterical laugh at the thought. “Sam?”

“I don’t know where Dean is. I don’t know when he’ll be back. He didn’t tell me. Just told me not to leave this room and that he’d be back later.” Sam admitted, suddenly just feeling drained of all energy and wanting to sleep until this whole mess was over.

“He… Crap. Sam, please trust us. Trust Michael to protect your dreams. We’ll both stay here, won’t leave. We’ll deal with Dean when he gets back, okay? Please, Sam.”

“Why do you care?” Sam asked, not really sure why they cared so much about him.

“You… just accept that we do, okay? We’ll give you our reasons later on, when you actually trust that we want to help you, and we’re not doing it to just save our skin.” Gabriel said, whilst Michael’s hand squeezed his shoulder once more in comfort.

“If you go to sleep now, we can talk to you in the morning, when Dean and our little brother is back, okay? I promise I’m not gonna hurt you.” Michael told him, and Sam paused before praying that he wasn’t about to make a huge mistake.

“Okay.” Sam whispered, and looked over to see Michael smiling widely at him.

“Good decision! Okay, you get yourself comfortable and I’ll just be sitting next to your bed. As soon as you fall asleep, I’ll be warding your dreams from Lucifer.” Michael explained, and Sam nodded, jaw clicking as he yawned widely. He lay down and curled up on his side, feeling both sides of the bed rise when the angels stood up from it.

“Get some sleep, Sammy. Michael will stay here with you, I just need to go out and see where Castiel is. We’ll be back as soon as possible.” Gabriel told him, and Sam grumbled his agreement, already feeling sleep encroaching on him. He only had a few minutes to hope Michael wasn’t lying, before he finally gave in a fell asleep.


End file.
